


Tree Beside The River

by Rubynye



Series: Thematic Series: Death and Sex [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bisexuality, Canonical Character Death, Comfort Sex, F/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Massage, Memories, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Multiple Relationships, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Past Riley/Sam Wilson, Renata (MCU)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 15:39:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7646923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Steve the night before Peggy's funeral.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tree Beside The River

Steve's departure ends the conversation like everyone left the room with him. They haven't, though, breathing uneasily, shuffling their feet, and as the silence lengthens it shifts, gaining a vector. Sam looks up from his folded arms to meet Natasha's eyes, Rhodes's, Wanda's... everyone except Stark, who's staring at the floor, is looking at Sam.

He was gonna anyway, but... "I'll just go check on him," Sam says as he excuses himself from their stares. His path to the door takes him past Charles Spencer's smiling photo, left up by Stark as if the Sokovians who died that day are any less important than this American kid. If Stark thinks Steve needs to be reminded of the human cost, he doesn't know the man who helped Diego and Ava find out what Pierce did with his housekeeper, their mother. Stark didn't see Steve's face when they found what was left of Renata Alvarez, or sit shoulder to shoulder beside him as he shuddered afterwards.

Sam stops just inside the stairwell, shutting the door smoothly behind him. It's a few moments before a tiny noise of pain drifts up from the shadows below. Whatever the news was, it sounds personal and final, and Steve doesn't have many people left to lose. _Carter_ , Sam wonders. She's been fading, and no one lives forever.

Another suppressed gasp, a shift of cloth, and Steve calls hoarsely, "Sam."

The ache in Sam's heart shifts to a sweeter pain. "Right here," he answers, jogging down the stairs. Steve's slumped against the wall, phone cradled in one hand, heel of his other pressed to his cheekbone. "Right here," Sam repeats softly, stepping into range. 

Steve doesn't look at him. He doesn't look at anything as he pockets his phone, as he reaches out and Sam reaches to meet him, folding their hands together. "Peggy," Steve whispers. "She's gone."

"I'm sorry, man." Sam guessed right, unhappily. "She's a great lady. I'm sorry for your loss."

Steve nods, his face still, his fingers tightening around Sam's, their palms pressed together. "I need to contact Michael, find out the funeral details."

"Just gimme long enough to shove my best suit in a garment bag," Sam asks, and Steve looks up, inhaling as his eyes open wide, clear and dark in the dimness. 

He wraps his free hand behind Sam's neck, and Sam bows his head under Steve's fingers, tilting towards Steve, who rests their foreheads together. "Thank you," Steve whispers, and follows the soft words with an even softer kiss, another, a third gentle brush of lips.

Then he lets go, straightens those impossible shoulders, and starts up the stairs, and Sam takes his six as they head up to tell their team.

\-----v----- 

Steve exits the hotel bathroom pink and warm from his shower, wearing just a towel around his hips, but his back and shoulders are still rigid as stone, his steps soldier-precise, his eyes downcast. _It's only me,_ Sam wants to say, _No one here to impress, no one here but you and me_.

So he sits up in bed, reaching out, and Steve looks up at him, not quite smiling but with his whole face lightening. He flicks the towel over a nearby chair, and Sam smiles a little just to see him naked and gorgeous, all those sculpted muscles and perfect proportions, as he climbs into bed. Steve lies down facing Sam like he always does, and Sam skips the tour, pretty though it is, to look into Steve's most important beauty, those expressive blue-sky eyes. They're edged with tension despite Steve's gentle smile, creases tight around and between them, and Sam's chest tenses in sympathy.

"Steve," he murmurs, "roll over a bit?" Steve's eyebrows go up. "On your front." Steve tips over, settling his cheek into the pillow, keeping his eyes on Sam. "There you go, baby." Sam turns and straddles Steve's narrow waist, rocking up onto his knees to keep from sitting on Steve's springy, distracting little ass. "There you go." Instead he leans down and presses a kiss to Steve's nape, just below his hairline.

Steve hums deep, not much more than an exhale, letting his eyes fall closed and a smile curve his cheek, and Sam sweeps his hands across Steve's shoulder blades, a tactile announcement, before firming up his grip and pressing his thumbs in either side of Steve's spine.

Steve lets loose a groan, long and low and so damn pornographic Sam twitches in his boxers. Later, maybe, he sternly reminds his dick as he leans in harder, pushing firmly into the massage, tracking their progress by feel. Some nights Steve eases slowly, relaxing by imperceptible degrees until Sam's hands are hot and aching and Steve's splayed out across the mattress. Sometimes, though.... Sam rubs firmly across the tops of Steve's shoulders, kneading the hard flesh, and Steve takes a long deep breath, blows it out slowly, pulls in a shuddery inhale, and _slumps_ under Sam's hands, so melted Sam could almost press right through him.

That doesn't mean Sam needs to stop touching him. He eases up a lick as he keeps rubbing broad strokes across Steve's back. Steve drags in long slow breaths and exhales soft deep moans, and Sam hums little encouraging noises in return as he works his way down, dragging his palms across smooth dense skin, digging his fingers into every tense knot he finds. Steve's lips tremble prettily and his eyelid flutters, those princess lashes casting lush shadows over his cheekbone, and Sam swallows hard, doesn't let himself lean in to press his hungry lips there, and keeps on going.

Eventually, too soon, Sam shifts back, Steve's pert little ass tucked between his thighs, and brackets Steve's waist with his hands, thumbs almost meeting. Steve sighs warmly, eyebrow arching up his forehead, and murmurs, "I know what you're doing, you know."

"I hope so, it's your back I'm rubbing." Sam's thighs tingle pleasantly with the effort of holding himself up, of not pressing his frank tent against that perfect ass.

"Mmm-ha." Steve slides a hand from under the pillow, and Sam watches his muscles shift as he turns his arm to curl his fingers around Sam's ankle. "I suspect ulterior motives."

Sam laughs a little, gently resisting his own desire, pushing his thumbs in alongside the groove of Steve's spine. "I think you're pretty well hooked on this hot stuff," he parries, relaxing into their usual warm banter. "But if you want--"

Steve rolls and surges, so damn fast, the playfulness fading from his suddenly wide eyes. " _Yes_ ," he says, reaching up to grip Sam's shoulders, arching up to rut against him.

Sam leans into Steve's hands, into Steve's pull, blanketing Steve with his body as their mouths press and dance. "Yes what, baby?" he asks between plunging kisses, hands curved to Steve's sides, but the thick flexing strokes of Steve's tongue across his seem answer enough.

At least, until Steve pulls back just far enough to murmur, "I dunno." 

Sam groans, shoving his forehead into the pillow. This amazing wonderful man is gonna be the fucking death of him.

But Steve says, "Really," with soft sincerity, curving his hand to Sam's cheek, and Sam opens his eyes to him. "I should." Steve shuts his eyes, and opens them again, and Sam falls right into their blue-ringed depths. "I _want_ ," Steve says with visible effort, and Sam's heart swells proudly, "to remember Peggy, to tell you about her. And, I want you to fuck me, Sam. I want to feel that, to feel you."

"How about both," Sam suggests, and presses his smile to the corner of Steve's mouth. Steve tilts into it, sliding it into a proper kiss as they wriggle against each other, stroking thigh across thigh as they shift. As delicious as Steve's tender mouth is, Sam loves how well they fit almost more than kissing, this easy way he and Steve move together, how their bodies know each other's. 

Steve swings a long leg up over Sam's waist, stroking down Sam's throat to drape that hand over his shoulder again, and he's so pliant, plus he actually asked for what he wants for once before the world ends. It all adds up to a question, despite all this heat. "You've been here before, huh?" As he asks Sam gets his knees beneath him, dug into the mattress at the best angle for leverage, working through the distraction of Steve's taut little ass snugged up against his tackle.

"Yeah." Steve hooks his other hand into Sam's waistband, and Sam shifts helpfully as Steve peels his boxers away. "Peggy ... she took care of me after Bucky, when we thought he died. I couldn't get drunk, I couldn't sleep, but she took me in hand and kept me from being alone." 

"Took you in hand, mmm." Sam follows that plan, palming Steve's dick as he tucks his along the crease of that hot little ass. "Sensible lady."

Steve smiles, heavy-lidded and beautiful. "Always. And... when my Ma died, Bucky got his folks to take me in, and took me into his bed. And it helped. So much." He glances up then, gripping Sam at shoulder and hip, and Sam has just enough time for a flash of indignant confusion at Steve's worried look before Steve continues, "Did you -- did you have anyone when you lost Riley?"

Oh, that explains it. "No," Sam answers, and Steve looks so _sad_ about it Sam has to lean in and kiss his sweet little frown. "Not right then." When he lost Riley grief ran cold in his blood, his dick dldn't even lift for three weeks. Steve's is velvety hot and weighty in his hand, vein throbbing under the pad of his thumb, and Sam burns with gladness that Steve knows this about himself, that Steve's asked him for this. "It's what it was. Now I'm here with you."

Steve shines that smile at him again. "Here with you," he echoes, wrapping his arm across Sam's back, pushing up for another kiss. He rocks gently, maddeningly, a smooth slide over Sam's dick, taut and thrumming in his hold, and Sam could lose himself to this moment, to Steve in his arms and his lap, but someone needs to get supplies.

At least when he pulls back Steve groans, rolling his eyes under their lids as he shoves his chin up in the most delightfully pushy way. "Where're you goin' --"

"Lube," Sam says firmly, and Steve glares at him through those mile-long lashes. "Lube and towels and _I'm_ getting them because _someone_ tried to bring back shower gel one time."

"I thought it was lotion," Steve actually _whines_ , like an actual human rather than a paragon, and God, Sam loves him. As Steve lets go he slides a hand down Sam's back, heat trailing behind his fingers, and squeezes his ass. Sam shakes it in Steve's hold and watches his grin widen, lopsided and toothy, watches him let himself want, and loves being what he wants.

Then Sam gets up and goes to rummage up the lube, wetting a towel under the tap, his own pulse pounding impatiently as he puts himself through all the necessary motions. He returns to find Steve's posture squared up a bit, long thighs tipped open, one hand draped on his belly and the other tucked behind his head.

He's blushing as he watches Sam set everything out on the nightstand. "Hey, hot stuff," Steve finally says, and Sam's chest swells with laughter. Steve smiles, translucently pink halfway down his chest, and Sam climbs back in between his beautiful thighs, leans in and presses himself to Steve's glowing warmth as Steve wraps strong arms around him, as their smiles meet.

As they kiss, Steve presses four fingertips to the long scar over Sam's collarbone, where a broken buckle sliced him open. Sam lets himself breathe a soft question into Steve's mouth, feeling his own cheeks heat, the uncertain tangle of emotions that well up whenever Steve goes for his scars. He feels a little shopworn beside Steve's smooth flawlessness, hugely honored by the reverence Steve caresses into his skin, achingly aware that Steve regrets his own inability to scar. Sam slips his fingers beneath Steve's nape, riffling through the short fine hairs there, and Steve slides his hand back to that spot behind Sam's shoulder.

"She has two scars here," Steve murmurs over Sam's lips, pressing two fingertips in particular spots. "She got them on a mission around March or maybe April, a bunker raid." Sam hums encouragingly, nipping sharpened kisses into Steve's neck and up behind his ear, as Steve shivers under his mouth and murmurs onwards, voice soft and deep. "Peggy found the file room and brought back a fistful of priceless intel, including our first full list of bases. Acted like she didn't even notice being shot."

"That where you get it from?" Sam asks around Steve's earlobe between his teeth, and bites down slowly.

Steve's laugh fades into a gasp, then a groan as he arches convulsively, thrusting into Sam's grip. "Fuck, Sam." His hands tighten on Sam's shoulder and hip till the bones creak beneath the flesh, till Sam's pretty sure he'll be wearing bruises under his suit tomorrow, a sweet reminder of life to carry through a funeral. "Fuck me."

"I dunno," Sam teases, and when Steve presses a growl to his cheek he grins. "I'm enjoying hearing about the badass Agent Carter." Stroking firmly, he challenges, "Maybe I don't wanna interrupt story time."

It's a terrible bluff, and Steve throws his head back in a breathless, beautiful laugh, eyebrows high over his closed eyes, throat arched too invitingly to resist biting. "That a dare?" he puffs, and Sam hums affirmatively as he sucks over the tendon between his teeth. "C'mon, Wilson, gimme what you got."

"Well, when you put it like that." Sam peels himself off Steve, who loosens his grip but doesn't let go, his handprints throbbing under his warm hands on Sam's skin. Sam grabs the lube and slathers a cool coating onto his dick, watching Steve's deep pecs heave as Steve watches him slick himself, eyes dark under those long lashes. He thinks briefly of motorboating Steve to make him laugh again, thinks of how goddamn good Steve will feel around his dick, and hooks his elbow under Steve's knee, knowing better than to bother right now with anything Steve might take for dawdling.

Steve pulls his chin to his chest to watch. Sam nudges him and his dick jerks a little, all untouched; Sam starts to sink into him as slowly as he can, inch by silky hot inch, as Steve's breath hisses between his teeth and his fingers spasm on Sam's shoulder. "Baby," Sam exhales, bubbling up out of his overflowing heart, and Steve smiles, and inhales, and _shoves_ himself down the rest of the way, burying Sam inside himself, balls deep. 

Sam's hiss opens out into a gasp, and Steve laughs again, grinning triumphantly, head tipping back on the long arch of his neck. "Whazza matter?" he puffs, "can't talk?"

Sam catches his breath, grips the mattress, and snaps his hips, watching Steve's eyes flutter closed and half-open again. "Smartass," he breathes, pulling out slowly, inch by inch as Steve quivers for him, lips parted sweetly. "You talk. 'M busy," as he slams home again.

Steve' whole beautiful body trembles with it, his eyes shutting again as his moan breaks into a tumble of happy noises, he shoves up and Sam dives in to meet him in a hard kiss. Sam lets himself go, sinking into Steve's tender mouth, the hot squeeze of his body, hips rolling as he wraps his arms around Steve's back and pulls him up, pulls him close.

Steve moans sharply, smearing his mouth off Sam's, letting go to push himself up with both hands, rocking into Sam's thrusts. His eyes are blown bottomless and black, red glowing in patches across his milky skin, his breath coming in huffs. He says, "She kissed like that," and Sam's heart pounds with painful delight, he laughs like he's flying and gives it to Steve as good as he can as Steve talks to him. 

"She kissed like you do," Steve murmurs, voice sizzling down Sam's nerves, eyes infinite as the sky. "Hard and sweet, Jesus fuck, I could taste her passion, I wanted her so fucking much, Sam, I fucking need you."

Sam lets his eyes go wide. Steve's gleam in the lamplight; he's not looking into his memories but into Sam's eyes. "Baby," Sam breathes, "you got me," and Steve moans, flexing around him. "You got me. C'mon, come here--"

Steve drops to his shoulders and Sam follows him down; Steve reaches up and wraps his arms across Sam's back, strong and tight. But his lips glance across Sam's, settling by his ear as Steve whispers breathlessly, his every word, every thrust winding Sam tighter and higher.

"One proper night," Steve tells him, shuddering in his arms, chest to chest, dick pressed between their bellies. "Before the last mission. Peggy said, 'Ah, a captain in my bed!' and I told her, 'just a boy from Brooklyn.'" Sam laughs, squeezing Steve around the waist, and Steve presses their cheeks together. "I'll never forget her smile."

"Know you won't," Sam murmurs, and Steve squeezes him across his shoulders. "I know you won't."

He can feel Steve's smile against his ear. "Won't forget how hard she rode me, either," Steve tells him in a low sly voice. "Right into the mattress."

"Mmm, I'd better pick up the pace." Sam's brain's already melty around the edges, but he thinks a moment, shifts his knees beneath them to change the angle, and on the next stroke Steve damn near deafens him with a loud happy shout. "There we go," Sam puffs triumphantly. "Tell me what she did with you."

Steve's first reply is all eager vowels. "Sam," he moans, tensing, tightening, getting close, Sam can feel it. "Sam, just, the way she straddled me, her red nails on my chest, how she pushed herself up, her tits bouncing --"

"They as pretty as yours?" Sam asks, a little ruthlessly, but now Steve's forgetting his own strength, bruising sharp fingermarks into Sam's shoulders that help push him back from the brink long enough for him to drive Steve over it. "Must've been a sight, sitting up on you, riding you at a gallop--" 

"Nnngh, Peggy, Sam," Steve wails as he grips Sam's ear, slamming their mouths together as he shivers into orgasm, crying out into Sam's mouth, clenching tight around him as he spurts slickly between their bellies. Sam moans in answer, dragged to the brink by Steve's pulsing pleasure. He imagines it suddenly, Peggy Carter in her full beauty, riding Steve hard as he sobbed with delight beneath her, and he's gone too, ecstasy sheeting across his mind and streaming through his body. 

Sam comes down too wrung out to hold the kiss, slumping bonelessly onto Steve, knowing Steve's strong enough to hold him. "Sam," Steve murmurs, voice thick, and Sam summons the scraps of his strength to hoist his head up. But Steve's eyes are shining, his smile wide as he murmurs reverently, "Holy Mother, that was -- both of you at once -- kiss me," and pulls Sam to him before Sam can even move. "Sam," Steve gasps over his lips, voice strained, and Sam knows what he needs, humming assent as he plants his elbow and pushes his hand between their bellies. "Sam, oh," Steve pants to him between kisses, fingers tight over his ear, hips rolling to shove his still hard dick into Sam's grip, and Sam hangs on and kisses back, strokes Steve and listens. "It was like I had her back for a second," and he sounds so _young_ Sam's thumping heart aches, "like I had you both, oh mother Mary what'd I do without you." 

"Don't have to," Sam breathes, almost wincing as Steve clenches around his tender dick, and Steve laughs with hard-won delight, his eyes as clear as the desert night, and kisses Sam deep and hard as he moans into coming again. Sam moans with him, feeling it almost like he can come twice himself, as Steve sobs happily into his mouth and shudders like an avalanche in his arms.

Eventually they collapse into the mattress, eventually the kiss slides softer and shallower, less tongue and more lips until they're just brushing their smiles together again and again. Sam drops his forehead to the mattress, feeling his chest slide against Steve's as they suck down air, still winded when Steve murmurs, "Sam."

"Hey," he murmurs back, opening his eyes again, as Steve shifts his thighs alongside Sam's, as he lays his hand softly on Sam's cheek, thumb tracing the line of his mustache.

"I remembered," Steve rumbles softly, as much felt as heard, "lying there with her head on my shoulder and my palm on her scars, thinking about sleeping with her, waking up beside her, for the rest of my life. For the first time since I'd lost Bucky, I could imagine the future. I..." he trails off, looking up out of his memories, into Sam's eyes. "I didn't know."

"You wouldn't get to?" Sam asks, and Steve blinks, a long swing of thick wet lashes. "I'm sor--"

Steve's shaking his head, smiling brighter than the lamplight. "Who I'd run into," he answers, his grip tightening just a little on Sam's head. "Who I'd get to wake up with, all my mornings. You, Sam Wilson," as joy knocks all the words from Sam's mouth. "You." Steve brushes another soft kiss across Sam's surprised mouth. "I'm so lucky, so lucky. To have Peggy when I woke up, as long as I did. To have you now. I'm so thankful for you." Looking Sam in the eye, Steve repeats himself earnestly. "So thankful. Thank you."

"Steve," is all Sam can say to that, until he's kissed Steve again, pressing a hand behind his heart, over and over until his own lips ache. "Steve. You're welcome, my man. You're so welcome."

Steve smiles, his littlest, truest smile, and kisses Sam one more time, soft as a prayer.

Then he pushes back a little, and Sam pulls his arms out to push up off of, out of him. Because everything has its time, including lovey-dovey kisses, including cleanup. Sam makes himself sit up, even though he definitely put his back into that round and the gravity's gone up three notches, and contemplates the lube-soaked spot under Steve's ass. "Maybe we should strip the bed."

Steve grabs a towel and rolls his eyes. "Maybe I'll just lie on you," he says as he passes it to Sam and grabs another to start cleaning up.

"'Fastidiousness as becomes an officer', or something," Sam mumbles, swiping away the worst of the stickiness. "C'mere then. I give up. "

Steve balls up both towels, tosses them precisely back into the bathroom, and rolls over into Sam's arms, reaching up to hit the light. Sam tugs the blankets up, tosses one over the wet spot and wraps the other around Steve's back, and Steve rests his cheek on Sam's shoulder and smiles against his skin.

Steve hooks his knee over Sam's and they lie there for a little while, wrapped in each other, cosy and warm. Steve relaxes in Sam's arms, an easy, solid press to his side, and Sam's heart eases in tandem. Still, Steve's not breathing like he's asleep, and Sam's awake enough to listen if he's got more to say.

It takes a little while, but Steve finally murmurs, "Now I almost feel like I can handle tomorrow." Sam hums encouragingly, and Steve keeps going, open and easy, honoring Sam with his trust. "I remember this from when my Ma died, but --- I still keep expecting to check my calendar and find it's time to go visit her again."

"Like if you open the right door she'll be right there," Sam echoes, and Steve nods, tightening his arm a bit.

Sam thinks that's it, then, but after a few more moments Steve asks, "Hey, how many days' clothes did you bring?"

That makes Sam pick his head up, looking down into Steve's open eyes. "Thinking of heading to Vienna?" Sam didn't come out of retirement to take down Hydra just to possibly sign himself over to them or God knows who else, but if Steve's changed his mind --

Steve's eyebrows are up, he holds Sam's gaze for a long moment before shaking his head. "Nah, just had a dumb thought of staying here for a few days, where Peggy grew up. But I guess we can't. Choices are the Accords or go home, so I guess it's home." Sam waits, and Steve adds, bit by bit, "Peggy told me once, when I was putting the Commandoes together and I was worried the brass wouldn't let me have Gabe and Jim. She asked if I was sure about them, and when I said I was she told me, "Then plant yourself on that like a tree, and don't let the whole world push you away." And I did. I can't sign my name to rules I'll just break if I need to. So I can't go."

"Me neither." Sam nods, tightening his arms around Steve. "What's in Vienna anyway, besides history, and culture, and pastry?" Steve laughs softly and snuggles into him, but now he's got Sam thinking, till he has to ask, "Ready to hang up your shield?" 

Steve sighs. "Not any more than you are to hang up your wings." 

Sam takes a deep, deep breath before he can say lightly, "Nah. I love my wings, but I love you more." He feels Steve hear him, a little tremor running through his whole body. "I've retired before, after all. It'll be fun. When we get home I'll show you everything in DC you've been missing."

Steve kisses Sam's chest and lays his head down again. "Mmm, looking forward to that, when I can think again. My brain's melted. All your fault." He's mumbling by the end, and Sam chuckles.

Looking up at the shadowed ceiling, Sam listens to Steve's breathing slide into sleep, and thinks just a little bit more. After tomorrow's funeral he's taking Steve home to hang up their gear, to get on with their lives. Maybe they can find a way to do some good regardless of the Accords, but, Sam figures, it'll have to be on the deep down low if at all. He signs, feeling Steve's sleeping weight on his side. He'll miss being a hero, but he's still got Steve, and maybe they can keep Redwing as a robo-pet. 

At least for now he's here for Steve, with Steve as he tells his Peggy goodbye.

**Author's Note:**

> Tiny note: When I first posted I had the name of the American kid killed in Sokovia from the 616 comics, Damian Sharpe; in the movie, as a knowledgeable friend pointed out, he's called Charles Spencer, so I amended the name in this story.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Need It Now](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12475044) by [Sheytsa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheytsa/pseuds/Sheytsa)




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